The Aesthetics of Ersatz Emotion
by Reivity
Summary: -oneshot- Don’t deny me the chance to feel. -AkuRoku-


"I love you," he says. He's biting harder now; drawing blood? His lips trace over every mark; silly little apologies. Doesn't he get it, yet? Such a pretty nothing; no need for _tenderness_, this is all I have. Don't deny me the chance to feel.

I laugh at him, followed closely by a sharp intake of breath. _Fuck_, he needs to do that more. "Don't lie to me." His fingers, tracing idle lines over my ribs, are icy; make me shiver. They're always so cold; a betrayal to his title. He's such a contradiction; so expressive, though none of us –

"Who says –" another sharp bite; just under my ear. I can't stop the groan. "– I'm lying?"

I can feel his smirk against my neck. His chilling fingers have moved down, hovering just above the skin of my hips. My arms are around his shoulders, nails scraping over his skin, leaving my own marks. He exhales into my hair, ruffling it just enough to get my attention for a brief moment before his hands make their move; down, down. "Facts," I mutter, tracing a finger across his stomach. (The muscles quiver; I smile. Such a pretty toy.)

I'm working hard to keep my thoughts coherent as his hands start their motions; so very difficult when they're so, so cold. My breathing hitches, fingers moving to tangle in his hair. I can feel his lips twitching on my collar bone, then teeth. There's no point in holding the sounds back; he's heard it all before. He laughs, moving faster, faster; no fair! He's cheating, _cheating_.

I use his hair to pull him down, biting down _hard _on the sensitive skin of his neck; don't bother with kisses. No apologies for Nobodies. He groans; treacherous hands slowing their work; I smile. He's under _my_ control now. (And oh, such a pretty puppet.)

One hand moves down, down, _down_, teasing. I like the sounds he's making; I don't get to hear them often. Fingers pull up again, my mouth ghosting just barely over his skin. Was that a whine I heard? I have to work to stifle the giggle threatening to bubble forth, mask it with another mark. The others are already deep red; fading into purple.

His breathing's getting heavier; I stop the motion of my hand, teeth sinking harshly into his shoulder as his starts back up. Oh, such a pretty game, this. So good at pretending to feel. (But what if this is real?) I can feel my breath picking up, (pressure, _pressure_), icy, icy fingers fingers, that delightful, deceitful mouth at my ear; "Facts prove nothing."

A growl replaces the half-whimper forming in my throat; cheating again. The hand in his hair tightens its grip, pulling him away so I can capture his lips with mine; violently, bruising and biting, his moans decidedly louder than my own. My hips start a motion against his, back arching so that every possible inch of skin is touching. His lips leave mine, trailing down to nip at marks he's already made; I can feel the curve of his lips when I hiss; (pain or pleasure?)

And then the impending ending, the death of such a pretty façade; it's come and gone before I can grasp the feeling. Oh, such trivial, fleeting pleasures of the flesh, and yet what more do we have? Naught but a fitting name and the shadow-hope of a companion with savvy.

His fingers are combing through my hair; he seems happy and it almost makes me laugh. He's always so genuine. Sometimes I wonder if he really does have a heart hidden away, locked just beyond hearing range. The hand sprawled on his chest feels nothing; only burning skin (such stark contrast to his hands) and heavy breathing. He says my name; I hum a response, shifting to rest my head over the place where a real person's heart would be. Still nothing; still nobody.

I can feel him grin. "Do you love me?" I don't answer for a long moment, listening intently to his breathing, the not-beating of his imaginary heart. His idle hands resume their previous work, running through my hair; it might feel good. I decide it wouldn't hurt to humor him; make a semi-content noise and bury my face in his chest.

"I might."

------

_Look! It's almost a lime. -dies-_


End file.
